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Saturday, 10 August 2013

The thoughts wander
marooned in the wildernesses of the mind, wells of knowledge and memory too
deep to draw from that stretch to the limits of imagination only constrained by
active engagement of the senses.

There have been
good times and there have been bad times, they interweave and interleave with
each other in recurrent clockwork motion as if there is a continued certainty
that each time will have its time. The hour hand crawling through the bad times
just as it races through the good times.

For he has walked
the mountain tops and strode the plains, just as he has found his paths
traversing the deep valleys under the gloom and dullness of life overcast by
the sometimes terrifying shadow of death. Life cannot ebb out yet.

Lists of losts

Yet, it is life
that he lives, not uncommon to many but precipitous and rocketing like the
undulating frenetic adrenalin producing roller coaster given a name to strike
fear in the hearts of those who drink lion’s blood for tea.

The day seems long,
the future seems short, the hopes begin to fade and the hunger is all the more
palpable because it was once three, then two and now one from dawn to dusk with
the hope that ursine hibernation sets in to make it last until the next when
the little left will do a little more.

For where is he a
year on from that day, not much further, not much better, not much having, very
much roaming and just another excavated mine of memories from which minerals
are have been exhausted, he is faint in body but strong in mind and all he knows
to do is bare his soul.